


show me how

by emeraldpalace



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Sensory Overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldpalace/pseuds/emeraldpalace
Summary: Sakusa isn’t sure when or how it happened, but the fact remains: Miya Atsumu has become a comfortable constant in his life.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 30
Kudos: 1058
Collections: Haikyuu





	show me how

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically a [thread](https://twitter.com/nyaneyan/status/1231983212659986441) I made on twitter that went kind of out of control so I decided to edit it a little and post it,,, 
> 
> The fic includes light depictions of Sakusa struggling with sensory overload because that's my hc for him and you can pry it from my cold dead hands
> 
> The title is from "Show me how" by Men I Trust, thank you Ceryna for showing it to me<3

Sakusa isn’t sure when or how it happened, but the fact remains: Miya Atsumu has become a comfortable constant in his life.

He’s gotten better over time, especially in college where he didn’t have the luxury of a small group of teachers and classmates and teammates looking out for him and his issues, but he’s still not a huge fan of physical contact, and he probably never will be.

He’s become used to friendly claps on his back, obligatory hugs after victories, but on bad days he still gets overwhelmed by Bokuto’s strong arms wrapped around his neck, Hinata’s loud high-pitched voice, the pungent smell of sweat and aggressively masculine deodorant sticking to the walls of locker rooms, and the disgustingly sticky feeling of his own uniform against his body.

But strangely, he rarely feels that way around Atsumu.

Atsumu's presence is strong and loud, demanding attention wherever he goes just by virtue of his existence, but ever since their first meeting during middle school nationals he never got the impression that the setter is arrogant: rather, he simply knows his worth, and is not afraid to show it. Sakusa has gotten plenty of accusations of arrogance in his lifetime, so he didn’t immediately agree with the jealous mob mentality, even if Atsumu is obnoxious in many, many other ways.

Sakusa has never liked the nicknames and idle attempts at jokes at the expense of his "prickly" personality, but he's also always appreciated the fact that, unlike many other people he's known, Atsumu never made fun of his compulsions and rituals, but simply accepted them as they are, and worked around them with unexpected respect.

When they first became teammates he immediately asked if there's anything he should avoid doing for Sakusa's sake, which boils down to two things: keep an adequate level of hygiene, and don’t touch him, particularly not on his skin. Atsumu doesn’t seem to have a problem with the former and has done his best to avoid the latter, and even when they do need to touch, Atsumu always makes his movements quick and light, keeps the touch of his setter's hands as brief and delicate as a dink over the other side of the net.

Atsumu has nice hands, Sakusa notices as some point. He moisturizes them often, but wipes them off quickly afterwards because he doesn't want them to be oily. He trims his nails regularly too, paints them pretty colours sometimes. They have a nice shape. Objectively speaking.

He also notices that the scent of his shampoo is subtly floral, complemented by the sweet apple of his deodorant, and sometimes after long, drawn out matches it's the only scent Sakusa can bear to be around in their crowded team bus, if it can't be helped otherwise. He's gotten completely surrounded by it once, when Atsumu happened to fall asleep on his shoulder when they were driving back to Tokyo one night, and when the initial panic wore off, he got used to the sweet scent wafting off his teammates and the warmth as he leaned against his shoulder. Atsumu had apologized when he woke up, he really hadn't mean to do that, but Sakusa didn't even lie when he said that it's fine—and felt his heart flutter when Atsumu smiled at him oh-so-sweetly, genuinely, for once, thanking him softly. That's when he noticed that his voice is quite nice, too.

It's even nice when it's whining at the friendly teasing of their teammates, though it gets surprisingly high, cracks a little when he shouts profanities at his brother over the phone—Sakusa can't help but chuckle at it, drawing Atsumu's attention towards himself.

"Oh my god Omi-kun!" he yells. "You just laughed! Like, forreal!" 

"No, I didn't," Sakusa replies in petty competition, as well as light embarrassment. Atsumu doesn't need to know that.

"You did, don't lie!!" the setter exclaims and points a finger at him. "I heard it loud and clear!!"

Sakusa huffs, turns away to leave, but Atsumu traipses after him. "You don't need to be embarrassed!" he calls merrily as he catches up, leans in just close enough into Sakusa's personal bubble, which has already shrunk considerably for the setter.

"It was pretty cute, ya know," he almost whispers, the resonance of his voice and the breath hitting Sakusa's ears dead-on. He flinches away.

"Oh crap, sorry, was I too close?"

"You breathed right into my ear," Sakusa replies, which isn't an actual answer to the question. 

"Sorry, won't happen again!" 

"It's fine, I was just surprised," Sakusa huffs, which isn't _technically_ a lie. He _was_ surprised, by how clear Atsumu's voice sounded so close by, and by the peasant shiver it sent down his spine. He hopes that the heat he suddenly feels doesn't show on his face.

"But, y'know," Atsumu continues, softer, at a distance, "it'd be nice if you laughed more often. It suits you."

Sakusa frowns at him, confused. That's the first time he's heard that—he knows his voice isn't pleasant, and he's been told his laughter sounds mean and condescending more than anything else.

"Maybe if you embarrass yourself more often," Sakusa replies cheekily, coming back to the safe confines of their bickering, feeling the blush creep up his body.

"Hey!" Atsumu whines and pouts, and Sakusa notices the shine on his lips, which is not helping the whirlwind in his chest.

So—maybe he likes Atsumu. He's not sure why Komori makes such a big deal out of it when he does admit it to his best friend, because it's _not_. It can't be a big deal, because if it is it will only hurt more when Atsumu inevitably meets someone he likes and starts dating, which will definitely _not_ be Sakusa. Komori says he's being too negative again, but Sakusa is a realist, and purely statistically speaking, the chance of Atsumu liking him out of the dozens of people he knows is just not feasible. And Sakusa knows he's not likeable.

He isn't particularly social, defaults to sarcasm if not brutal honesty because he doesn't see the point in beating around the bush with pleasantries, and his habits and boundaries are difficult to learn and constantly keep in mind for other people. Atsumu knows this, and Atsumu also surely knows how he could easily get someone nicer, prettier, easier to get along with, because he's handsome and charming and has a magnetic confidence that, whether you like it or not, makes you pay attention to him no matter what. He's attractive in all the ways Sakusa is not.

Komori threatens to lick all of Sakusa's cutlery if he doesn't stop talking "badly" about himself like that, which Sakusa knows he wouldn't do, but he sighs and manages to admit that his chances are, in fact, non-zero. They're teammates, friends maybe, they spend a lot of time together, and Atsumu seems to enjoy his company well enough to initiate conversations with him, and he's nothing if not respectful about Sakusa's boundaries, so he at least cares enough about Sakusa's comfort in that way. Still, he refuses to hang onto any possible hopes.

That doesn't mean that Atsumu himself doesn't make it difficult to get over him. As if he didn't get the memo, he continues being as easily friendly with Sakusa as always, while bickering with him over trivial things for the fun of it, but being serious and reliable when it comes down to it, discussing strategies and attacks with him as teammates and sweeping Sakusa up in his enthusiasm when they notice a quick being just the tiniest bit sharper and more precise than the last one, and fueling his sense of rivalry when they compete over their serves.

Their interactions are comfortable for their familiarity alone, and even without mentioning it, Sakusa thinks that Atsumu also at least doesn't hate the way they know each other just enough—having enough sense to know more or less what to expect, but still leaving room for the occasional surprise.

But sometimes, just sometimes, it feels like something else entirely. The bickering and the competition is easy and good because it’s familiar and not strictly exclusive—no one in their team is above teasing and spurring each other on to greater heights, so the easy mockery when one of them messes up, and the promises of beating the other next time are nothing special, just by themselves.

It's in the quieter moments, when they're heading back home in the quiet of the night and talk in low tones about god knows what, or when they stay quiet but sit almost close enough to touch on the bus, or when Atsumu smiles at him proudly when they feel themselves syncing up with each practiced spike, that Sakusa gets that warm feeling in his chest again, and he's probably, definitely projecting his wishful thinking into seeing something in Atsumu's eyes that he hasn't yet noticed in his interactions with anyone else. He know that he shouldn't hope, and yet— 

And yet, Sakusa has come to crave more and more, started accepting Atsumu's outstretched hand to help him up after stretches, marvelling at the soft yet firm touch of his hands every single time, savouring every accidental brush of their shoulders or knock of their knees like Tantalus getting a taste of the forbidden fruit, before it gets snatched out his hands again just as quickly.

Still, he's just not capable of asking for it outright, because he knows that he shouldn't, he's not the _type_ to want casual touch, but every time he sees Atsumu return one of Bokuto's enthusiastic hugs or fondly ruffle Hinata's hair, he can't help but suffocate with jealousy and desire, with yearning.

He doesn’t necessarily want it to the same extent, not all the time, but he still longs for something more, something he's lacking, something that will both soothe and nurture the burning feeling in his heart. Even on the worst of his days, when he has to sit out a match, when he gets the urge to pick at his skin to distract from the scratchy bus seats underneath him, when every bump on the road hits him like a car crash and he needs headphones to drown out the sounds of the engine and the chatter of his teammates, he still sits a seat away from Atsumu for the grounding scent of jasmine and apple.

"I'm sorry," he decides to say after one of those incidents, a minor one where he recovered on the way. "For making you sit with me every time I get... like that."

"You ain't makin' me do anything though?" Atsumu replies easily. "I just join you when you look like you need it."

"Still, I keep you from talking to everyone else. I will be fine either way, eventually." It's a last ditch attempt at pretending that he doesn't _need_ Atsumu in his life, because at this point he's starting to fear that his feelings will become much too obvious to hide, even to someone as dense as Atsumu.

"So? I can talk to them anytime I want, but if I can help ya out, then I wanna do it."

"I'm telling you, you don't have to."

"And I'm telling ya that I want to! I mean what would Omi-kun do without me?" Atsumu continues with a sneering grin. "After all, what did ya say? That I’m the only one who doesn't reek of an axe body spray factory?" 

Sakusa might have exaggerated that, though he's sure it felt that way when he first asked Atsumu to sit with him at the back when his sense of smell was particularly overwhelmed that day.

"... I appreciate it, but I also don't want you to feel forced to help me with my problems—"

" _Omi-omi_ ," Atsumu interrupts him with equal parts accusation and annoyance in his voice. "I _just_ told ya that I'm not forcing myself to do anything, if I can make your life a little easier then I want to do it in any way I can! I mean, wouldn't you wanna help out someone you like?"

  
  


Wait.

_Wait._

Sakusa's thoughts suddenly accelerate to running a hundred miles a minute, surely he just misheard, _surely_ Atsumu didn't just imply that he _likes_ Sakusa, or maybe he just meant it in the way friends like each other's company, he _couldn't_ mean anything else and Sakusa is this close to calming down his oncoming panic, convincing himself that it’s not that at all— 

If it wasn't for Atsumu himself, staring at him with his mouth and eyes wide open, before starting to ramble.

"I-I-I mean, uh, I didn't mean it like that, I mean I did, but also, not, like, uh, what I wanna say is-" he ends up just moaning and hiding his face in his hands.

"Fuuuuuuuuck," he groans out, even as Sakusa is still busy processing whatever the fuck it is that's happening in front of him.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," Atsumu tells him with a bitter laugh, "I didn't want to spring this on you, you probably hate me now-"

"Atsumu."

He wants to take it back as soon as he says it, because he isn't someone who calls people by their name freely, it always feels too intimate, too much, especially with the way Atsumu is looking at him with too-open, too-honest eyes.

"What’s going on?" he ends up asking, which isn't exactly what he means, because he _thinks_ he knows, but it contradicts his sense of reality as he knows it, as he convinced himself it is, and he's trying to fit the puzzle pieces together, but only the man in front of him can give him those.

"Guess the cat's out of the bag, huh?" Atsumu laughs hollowly and pushes a hand into his fringe. He then takes a deep breath and looks up at Sakusa once again, still too open, but with a new sense of determination.

"I like you, Omi-kun."

Sakusa isn't always the best with social cues, but even he knows there's no doubt in that statement.

"...You like me?" he still asks, just to be certain.

"I just said that, didn't I?" Atsumu replies, his smile suddenly turning an uncomfortable shade of sad. "But y'know, it's fine, I know ya don't feel the same way, I can just go and you can forget—” he turns to leave, just like that, and Sakusa feels something swell in his heart, forcing its way out of his mouth with a start.

"Who said that?" he asks, harsher than intended.

"H-huh?"

"Who said that I don't feel the same?"

"Huh!?"

Sakusa feels the shame well up inside him, the last of the fear and the doubt clutching his brain tight, along with the irrational anger at how _easy_ Atsumu made it seem, how he's still standing there casually while Sakusa feels like he's bursting at the seams—when suddenly Atsumu is standing in front of him again, eyes wide and red in the face. 

"W-w-wait, wait,” he stammers out, “You like me too? Me? Are you sure?" He points at himself with a hand shaking almost as much as his voice.

"I just said that, didn't I?" Sakusa finds it in himself to echo with mockery, and Atsumu's eyebrows furrow in just the way Sakusa has come to recognize in his dreams.

"Trust me, I'm surprised myself," he continues with a rueful smile, only to see Atsumu pout even further.

"Hey," he whines, and steps forward towards Sakusa again, closer but somehow not close enough. 

"You shouldn't joke about stuff like that."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"... No," Atsumu replies. "No, you wouldn't joke about something like that." He smiles, and immediately his face drops, hand flying to his mouth again.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, you _like_ me."

"...Yes," Sakusa confirms with embarrassment.

"And I like you."

"Yes...?"

"We like each other."

"I think we've established that," Sakusa quips, but he thinks Atsumu's antsiness is starting to take him over too, because yes. They seem to like each other.

"Oh my god," Atsumu says again, but with a giddy laugh, and spins around in his place, jumps once, hands fidgeting in the air.

"I can't believe this is happening, I really thought you'd never like someone like me, like I can be real annoyin' sometimes, and—" 

The hands are starting to irritate Sakusa, so he does the first thing that comes to mind, and takes them in his own.

Atsumu stares down at them, then back up at Sakusa, and then at their hands again. 

The skin is soft, Sakusa notices, without much surprise. The flesh underneath is firm, fingers squeezing back at Sakusa’s just to make their presence known also enough to make him stare at them too, slowly grasping back himself.

Atsumu releases a low giggle, swings their intertwined arms just a little bit in child-like wonder, and looks up at Sakusa with stars in his eyes. 

"I really like you, Kiyoomi."

Sakusa feels breathless. It's probably not the first time he's heard Atsumu say his given name, but something about the breathiness of his clear voice, the light wrinkles around his eyes as he smiles up at him, a softly floral yet fruity scent slowly entering his consciousness, it feels different.

It always feels different with Atsumu.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Comments are always appreciated, and do consider checking out my[twitter](https://twitter.com/emeraIdpalace) <333


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